


The Scent

by palominopup



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 16:14:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4712336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palominopup/pseuds/palominopup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean reflects on Cas' trenchcoat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scent

**Author's Note:**

> Destiel Forever's Queen Susan requested a few stories with a common theme - Cas' trenchcoat. I chose this one.
> 
> For those of you who like my stuff, I've created a FB group page. I'll post my stuff there and you can give me prompts. https://www.facebook.com/groups/550258875175871/

The numbers on Dean’s alarm clock said it was early…too early to be up. He stretched, surprisingly not tired anymore. He turned on his bedside lamp and his feet hit the cold floor. The bunker’s floor was always so freakin’ cold.

He pulled on a pair of socks and left his room. His first stop was the kitchen. He pulled out a bottle of water and turned it up. Thirst quenched, he padded into the library. Cas was asleep at the table, head down, his hair sticking up in all directions, where he’d run his fingers through it. The corner of Dean’s mouth lifted in a half smile. Funny how his angel had developed human mannerisms over the years. His angel? Where did that come from?

Dean shook his head and turned to head back to his room to read, but something caught his eye. Cas’ old, tan trenchcoat was laying over the chair next to the slumbering angel. Dean’s fingers caressed it, remembering that dark time when he’d thought he’d lost Cas. He frowned at the memory. The thought of only having the stupid coat…just the damn coat…being the only thing left. Dean never let himself grieve for his friend. Oh, Bobby had tried to get him to talk about it, but that wasn’t the Winchester way. He’d carried that damn coat around in the trunk of his car…yeah, and maybe he’d prayed. Cas had come back to him eventually…the real Cas…not the Cas that thought he was God, not the batshit crazy Cas, not the martyr Cas in Purgatory…no, his Cas. He looked down at the tousled head. His Cas.

His fingers had been gripping the material, wrinkling it. He let go, only allowing his fingertips to touch it. Without thinking, because thinking about Cas…in that way…was wrong, he picked it up and brought it to his face. He inhaled Cas’ scent. Cinnamon, honey…ozone…yeah, ozone. That charged electrical smell like when you rode the bumper cars at a fair. He breathed it in again. He loved Cas’ smell. It brought back another memory…that first time…so many years ago…Cas striding into that barn…hair looking like he’d just been fucked hard…or done the fucking…sparks raining down. Dean had wanted him then. Wanted him more than anything. He’d tamped his desire down quickly. That wanting…that desire…buried deep inside of him now. So deep, it would never see the light of day.

And God, he needed to stop thinking about that. He dropped the coat back to the chair, angry at himself for having those thoughts. Dead and buried, that’s where his feelings needed to stay. He pivoted on his stocking feet, needing distance.

“Dean.”

He froze and closed his eyes. “Yeah, Cas?” He wouldn’t look at the angel because Cas was so fuckin’ good at reading him. The angel could see his soul for fuck’s sake.

“Does my coat need laundering?”

“Huh, what?” Dean did turn then, looking at Cas, confused.

“You were smelling it like I’ve seen you do your socks sometimes when you are wondering if they were clean or not.”

“No…it doesn’t need washing.” Cas’ eyes were bluer than blue and Dean couldn’t look away. He wondered if anyone had ever told Cas how beautiful his eyes were. Maybe that bitch who’d taken Cas’ virginity had told him to lure him into her bed. Dean’s fists clinched. Cas deserved better. A person’s first time should be better… He could have made it...

“Dean?”

“What, Cas?” He didn’t mean to snap. Cas hadn’t done anything wrong. Fuck, it was his own fuckin’ heart that…he looked away, not wanting to see Cas’ eyes anymore.

“I remember the first time I saw you.” Cas’ voice was barely above a whisper.

“Cas…” Was the man a mind reader? 

“Hell is so full of evil…it seeped into me. And then there you were, the evil was trying so hard to get into your soul, but it was too good.”

“Cas, stop…” Dean let his eyes drift to Cas’ again. Cas always seemed to look at him like he was something special. Maybe that’s why he…

“I saw your soul first. It was bright and good. The next time I saw you was after I’d pieced you back together and I thought you were one of my father’s most beautiful creations.”

Dean ran his fingers through his short hair, exhaling loudly in the quiet room. “You’ve got to stop…” He felt vulnerable. Felt like his soul…his heart was laid bare for Cas to see.

“I’m weak, Dean.”

Dean smirked and sarcastically he said, “Yeah, right, Cas. I’ve seen you in action. Did you forget you were an angel?” 

“Physically, I’m very strong. With my grace restored, I am very powerful. It is my…heart…that is weak.”

“You’re speaking in riddles, Man.”

Cas stood and picked up his trenchcoat, holding it in front of him. “Why did you keep this…when I…”

“I’m not talking about this…not now…not ever,” Dean’s voice was raised now. He couldn’t do this. He had to get away. He’d almost made it to the doorway, when Cas’ words stopped him. He didn’t turn around. 

“My father wanted us to love humanity. But love…the emotion that people feel towards those most important to them…I’m not supposed to feel that. I do feel it…for you, Dean.”

Dean reached out and gripped the door frame because he was afraid his legs would not support him. “Cas, you don’t know what you’re saying,” he said through gritted teeth.

“When I was human…I felt want and need. I felt desire.”

“Yeah, well you did alright in that department, didn’t you…good old April…”

Electricity crackled in the room and Dean spun around. Cas looked ready to smite him and he cringed.

“She took something from me…something I should have saved. Saved for the one I was meant for.” Anger rang in Cas’ words.

Typical of Dean, he read more into Cas’ words. “Well, maybe you’ll find her one day. Good luck with that.”

“I’ve already found who I was meant for. Now, I must wait to see if he is meant for me.”

There was no way Dean could not pick up on Cas’ use of the pronoun. “He?” Dean tried and failed to sound neutral. In that one word, Dean had put hope.

“He smells of leather and a forest in the morning…I know his scent. It haunts me. Even when we are apart, I can smell him.”

“Cas…” What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to express his undying love for an angel of the Lord? 

“I do love you, Dean. If you decide to accept it, I will be here. I’ll always be here…for you.”


End file.
